Blowing Off The Stink
by L Zaza
Summary: After a difficult mission Blue Squadron goes on furlon. The boys get in trouble while trying to blow off the stink of war. Takes place pre-Destruction.


Blowing Off the Stink

By Lisa Zaza

Decimus 15, 7336

_Sugar_ Club, Pineus

(Pre-Destruction)

The backbeat pounded through his body, filling him up until there was no room left for conscious thought. His heartbeat seemed to follow in time, warmth suddenly infusing a body that had been cold for days. He drew a deep breath, sucking in the stale smoke, the smell of sweat radiating off the writhing bodies on the dance floor, and the scent of cheap perfume mixed with cheaper aftershave. This was what he'd come here for. This was it. Vitality. Life. He headed for the bar, ready to blow off the stink of war.

A hand grabbed his arm and he turned to see Apollo miming something in his direction. As usual, you needed a comm system to be able to hear anything in _Sugar_. Other members of their squadron were filtering in as well. The Pineus club was packed to capacity, and more than likely exceeded it.

"What?" Starbuck yelled back at the captain.

"Are you sure?" Apollo hollered back, his eyes darting back to the scanner at the door, and then to their right.

Apparently, he took issue with a bar that made you check your weapon at the door. Or maybe it was the long line of people behind them not wearing uniforms who were also checking their weapons. But hey, this was Pineus! Starbuck followed his friend's gaze to the dance floor. Most of the couples—not all of them Human—looked more like they were attempting to have sex with their clothes on, rather than dance. If he wasn't mistaken, there was a drug deal going down in the corner, and from the looks of most of the patrons, they were wasted on one substance or another, legal or otherwise. He pulled out a fumarello, puffing on it as he lit up. The smoke filled those cold places in him that the music hadn't yet reached. He really didn't want to go back outside into the driving rain and gloom to stand in another line at another club. They were all the same really. Instead, he grinned, smacking his buddy on the shoulder. "Relax. It'll be fine."

That decided it was only centons later that the two of them were being handed mugs of grog which he watched Apollo examine with raised eyebrows. He glanced down at the froth on his own drink. There were floaters on top.

"Extra protein?" the captain hollered sardonically.

"Hey, they charge extra for this on Caprica!" Starbuck returned, taking a swig. It was cold and strong. He took another while surveying the action. The pickings were slim, but another few sips of Pineus grog would change everything, turning the plainest of women into beauty queens in under five centons. Blue Squadron was on a well-deserved three-day furlon, and he was going to make the most of it.

A nudge from his opposite side alerted him that Boomer had caught up. His friend was halfway through his grog and looking more relaxed than he had appeared in days. More relaxed than _any_ of them had been since the battle on Evodus III. Too many good warriors lost. Lords, he hated ground missions! And the entire concept that _pilots_ had been ordered into the _field_ to gather intelligence somehow seemed more of a practical joke than a well thought out and executed strategy. Starbuck shook his head, driving the images of death and destruction from his mind with an effort. The smoke that filtered through his system tried to pull him back to the battle, the smell awakening images and sounds that he'd just as soon put behind him. Another glass or two of grog would just about do it . . .

Boomer pointed to the dance floor where a flaxen beauty with hair spilling over her bare shoulders writhed on the dance floor with reckless abandon. Her head was thrown back as if in rapture, her lips slightly parted, and it didn't take much of an imagination to take off on a flight path of fancy . . . Starbuck took another draw of his smoke as he watched her run her hands suggestively over an hourglass figure as she kept her dance partner at a distance, as though he was only there to observe the show. He smiled. She needed a real man, not an audience.

"Is it the grog, or is she really a goddess?" Boomer hollered.

Starbuck drained his glass and grinned. "I'll let you know in the morning!" He could hear Apollo and Boomer laughing as he pushed off towards the dance floor.

xxxxxxxxxx

Apollo took another gulp, feeling the numbing effects of the alcohol seeping into him. This was mostly definitely not his usual scene, but the energy was contagious. It was a place to fill your senses, lose your inhibitions, and he'd been offered about three different ways to do just that since walking in the door. For now, just being here was enough. Just knowing that most of his men had made it was all the reassurance he needed that he would be okay. That they _all_ would. None of them needed to know that they'd ended up being a diversion. He alone would bear the burden that High Command had withheld the entire picture from Adama, in order to execute consecutive ground strikes, confusing the enemy and ultimately obtaining their objective at any cost. Apollo scanned the room. Starbuck on his way to the dance floor. Giles at a table. Jolly in the corner. Greenbean by the . . .

_Stop it_!

He didn't need to account for his men here. They weren't going to get picked off by a Cylon, or end up in a barrage of exploding solenite charges wired to consecutively detonate when any individual one was tripped . . . Lords, he'd almost thought he'd lost Boomer and Jolly . . . He snapped himself out of it, taking a steadying breath as the explosions of flame and smoke mutated back into the strobe light and fog machine over the dance floor. In one swallow, he finished his drink. Yeah, Pineus was a child's playground compared to Evodus III. Setting his glass down on the bar, he followed Starbuck's progress as the self-proclaimed God's Gift to Women strutted towards the dance floor. Apollo reached into his pouch, and then waved an Orion check before Boomer's eyes. "Ten says he gets nowhere."

"Twenty says they leave together," Boomer returned with a laugh.

Sure enough, the beauty already had her eyes on the lieutenant as he pushed through the crowd. Apollo shook his head as she carelessly cast her current partner aside, and stood posed like a runway model waiting for Starbuck. "I don't know how he does it . . ."

xxxxxxxxxx

"Doesn't seem right for one man to be so lucky . . ." Boomer returned after a moment, then he took another drink musing, _thank God that he is_ . . . If it hadn't been for that innate sense of direction that his friend had, there was no way they'd have picked their way through a minefield of recently detonated explosives, the air thick with dust and smoke, avoiding both debris and Cylons. Starbuck had practically carried him, his leg broken in three places . . . but then he'd heard that Apollo had done the same for an insensate Jolly, and figured Starbuck had got off lightly. Boomer smiled at his private joke, glancing across the room, seeing Jolly well into his cups. He was chatting up some woman who might or might not have two extra eyes. At this point into his grog, it was difficult to tell. Oddly, Jolly caught his eye, and the big man raised a glass. A look passed between them, and Boomer nodded, before turning back to the bar. He needed to buy a round for all his friends. It was the least he could do after Evodus III. Abruptly, a pair of arms was draped around his neck. It would have been preferable if the knuckles weren't so hairy . . .

xxxxxxxxxx

"Boomer!" Giles exclaimed. "This place is great! I swear the women are throwing themselves at me!"

"Looks like one of them made a direct hit," Boomer commented, admiring the flaming right side of Giles face.

"Oh, that." Giles rubbed his cheek distractedly. "Just a misunderstanding."

"She said, 'no'?" Apollo inserted, joining in.

Giles shrugged. "Well, not in so many words . . ." He could still feel a dull ache in the back of his skull from the compression of the blast. Lords, if he closed his eyes he could still feel the splash of Keegan's blood across his face. There hadn't been much of Keegan left, and he could feel himself start to shake as he remembered the carnage . . . A cold sensation in his right hand brought him back to the present. He nodded his thanks to Apollo, realizing the captain had just thrust a freshly poured grog into his hand. He was still watching them all, and had been since Evodus III. Giles shakily raised the glass to his lips, wishing he wasn't quite so conditioned to the effects. It would take at least one more before he was half as lit as Greenbean who had just started doing the Funky Poulon on the dance floor. Nearby, Starbuck was entwined with some piece of fluff to the point of indecency . . . Lords, he was so envious! He lurched off towards the dance floor in search of a less hostile prospect than what's-her-name with the left hook had been. "Get a room, Starbuck!" he hollered as he passed the other by. . .

xxxxxxxxxx

"Not such a bad idea . . ." Starbuck murmured throatily, pulling Charisse . . . Chanel . . . Chalice . . . Chablis . . . Chandelle . . .

"Follow me," Ch-something whispered into his ear, pulling him towards the back of the club.

Starbuck could sense jealous eyes upon him as he walked through the crowd with the sexiest woman in the club. It wasn't the first time. Still, he'd never danced with a woman before in a way that made him want to have her right there on the dance floor. The music was pounding through his body, his desire for her coursing through him. He felt so alive it was as though he would go supernova if he didn't take her soon. _This_ was what he needed. To connect with a passionate woman who could make him forget all about Evodus III . . . at least for a little while.

In microns, she had pulled him into a storeroom, kicking the door shut and pressing him up against it. She pulled at his clothes, exploring his body, and he replied in kind. His flight jacket and tunic hit the floor. Her dress was merely readjusted for easier access. She was raunchy. Ribald. Desperate. Hungry.

And he was loving every micron of it.

Abruptly, the door exploded inward, thrusting them both across the room. Starbuck kept a grip on her, managing to maintain his balance as he turned to see who had come to call. He never even saw the fist that caught him under the jaw.

"Azureus!" Ch-something screamed, restoring her dress.

"Slumming again, Chandral?" the man growled at her. "Another warrior, huh? You just can't resist the officers, can ya?"

Starbuck barely had a chance to roll over before two burly goons hauled him to his feet, securing him between them. Two more looked on, loosely holding the girl. It was a decided turn in the evening, and Starbuck was definitely at a disadvantage with half his clothes already tossed on the floor, and his pants partially undone and riding low on his hips.

"Do you think maybe we can talk about this?" Starbuck attempted lamely, not thinking it likely as he stared into the enraged face. "I'm really a great guy once you get to know me . . ."

"Oh, he talks! Still, I'm guessing you didn't choose pretty boy for his stimulating conversation!" Azureus grunted.

"_Pretty_ boy?" Starbuck protested, just before Azureus drilled a fist into his stomach.

Starbuck's breath whooshed out of him, likely never to return. His knees hit the floor as he hung suspended between the behemoths. It was like a landram had just drilled him in the guts, and he fought to make his lungs work again for just one precious little breath as he studied the blurry pair of boots in front of him.

"Drop him!"

xxxxxxxxxx

It had taken Apollo all of a centon to notice Starbuck leaving for a backroom with his flavour of the secton. It had taken less time than that to spot the five men following, looking none too friendly as they shadowed his preoccupied friend. Apollo hadn't needed to say a word, the others had noticed too. Later he would remark that they were still watching each other's backs as though they were still on Evodus III, but just then he was impressed that they could all stand upright and follow him.

"I said, _drop_ him!" Apollo snarled. By now, Boomer and Giles were flanking him on the right, and Greenbean and Jolly on the left. Starbuck had been the lucky one on Evodus III, not coming away with any more than some scrapes and bruises which still appeared vividly on his left shoulder and arm. As far as Apollo could tell from the heaving movement of his torso, his friend was either going to retch or breathe any micron now. "And let the girl go!"

They took too damn long deciding.

Apollo lunged towards their leader, catching him off guard. Apparently, the girl's usual "pretty boys" didn't have friends watching their backs. She screamed as the captain's fist connected with the head goon's jaw, taking him down for the count with one punch. From his peripheral vision he saw Starbuck hit the floor as the rest of the room jumped into the fray. It should have been over in a few centons . . . but then again, this _was_ Pineus.

More people flooded into the room, and once again Apollo found himself slugging it out. It had turned into a melee, and it took split micron timing to realize at one point that he was about to punch Giles. Starbuck was on his feet, and giving as good as the rest of them by now, but was in danger of losing his pants if he didn't do something about that soon. Even the girl was engaged in a felix-fight with some other hysterical female.

It penetrated Apollo's consciousness that normally he wouldn't have taken it this far. He would have found some other way to rescue Starbuck—and his pants—without causing a riot in a nightclub obviously known for its questionable activities. Then came Evodus III and they had all come here to blow off some steam. Lords, he felt alive! Coming to his friend's rescue, dropping the astrum-wipe that had targeted a Colonial Warrior, drinking, carousing . . . Sagan, but his father would kill them all if they didn't get out of here soon. At the very least they'd all lose the rest of their furlon and be on report until the mythical descendent of the ninth Lord of Kobol parted the waters in Caprica Bay . . .

"Boomer!" Apollo caught his arm, ducking the fist that tried to deck him. "We have to get out of here before Civil Security arrives!"

The lieutenant seemed to focus for a moment, decoding the words as he studied the face behind them, before nodding. "I'm all for a quick flip to Tropica for the rest of the furlon!"

"Let's go!"

Okay, so the timing was a little late.

The clamour of the sound system abruptly stopped, to be replaced by a deafening whistle and an ampli-phone. "_Pineus Civil Security! Break it up!_"

Well, this wasn't the most studious or attentive crowd Apollo had ever been in, and typically, they didn't listen.

Centons later the raucous crowd was being hosed down, and people hit the floor, protecting themselves from the jet-stream pummelling their bodies. Abruptly, a hand grabbed Apollo's elbow.

"Back door!" Jolly shouted, pulling Apollo to his feet. "Go . . . !"

xxxxxxxxxx

Unfortunately, Apollo wasn't the only one who heard him.

A sudden stream of people headed for the back door, barring all but the first few who had arrived as they bottlenecked. Jolly used his bulk to try and push his way to the front of the line. The current of panic running through the crowd took him back to Evodus III, just before his world exploded and the blackness of oblivion had taken him. Once again a blast of jet-steam hit them.

"_On the floor! Face down! Hands behind your heads!_"

Jolly glanced around, trying to spot the others as he dropped to the filthy floor. In retrospect, it could use a good hosing down. Boomer . . . Starbuck . . . Greenbean . . . Giles . . . Apollo beside him. All accounted for. It was only a matter of soggy centons before one by one, people were being hauled to their feet, restrained behind the back, and led into the alleyway. It carried a sense of foreboding with it, but it paled in comparison to the battle they were all trying to shake off. He glanced at Apollo, whose jaw had tightened, and he was swallowing almost convulsively. That's when it hit Jolly how much trouble they all might be in. Tigh would strip and module them . . .

xxxxxxxxxx

It was a new experience for the captain, and the cold shock of reality hit him that this would probably be on his permanent record. Strangely, he and Jolly were led to a separate transport from the one the civilians were being piled into. It looked like an archaic paddy-wagon of yore, only large enough to hold a dozen men at the most. They were pushed inside, the door closed loudly, and the heavy clunk of a locking mechanism was set.

"Did anybody get away?" Jolly asked.

"I don't think so," Apollo replied. "Besides, they have our weapons in the lock-up to ID us."

The door opened again, and Greenbean was thrust inside, blood running down one side of his face from a gash over his eye. He looked at them wildly for a moment.

"Easy, Greenbean," Apollo reassured him. "You're all right . . ."

His arms secured behind him, blood trailing down his face, half deaf from the din, being pushed from behind, it took Greenbean right back to Evodus III when he had come harrowingly close to being executed by a Cylon sentry. The explosion had knocked him for a loop, and when he had come to he was being jerked to his knees, one centurion holding him semi-upright, and another holding his sword high in the air. If Giles hadn't come along just then, he'd have lost his head, and for a change it wasn't to alcohol.

"_Greenbean_!"

He blinked, realizing it was Apollo across from him, not some mong-raking Cylon. He nodded abruptly, replying, "I'm with you."

"We were wondering for a centon," Jolly returned, his blue eyes narrowed in concern.

Greenbean smiled slightly, glancing at the other two. "One Hades of a party, guys . . ."

xxxxxxxxxx

Two more times the door opened, admitting Giles and then Boomer into the fold, arms secured behind their backs. Apollo yelled out just before it closed, "One more, but he's shirtless!" The door stayed open a micron more while the information was considered, and hopefully processed.

"Good point," Boomer murmured quietly as they all waited long centons to see if Starbuck would show.

Finally, the door opened once more and Starbuck was pushed inside.

"Oh, this is _much_ better." Starbuck told the guard. "Now this is high living. Thanks, pal." The door slammed shut as he dropped onto the bench across from the captain.

"Is everybody okay?" Apollo asked as the transport shuddered, the engines coming alive as they prepared for take off. Within microns they would be heading towards Civil Security Headquarters.

A few cuts, scrapes, and bruises would be the extent of the physical toll they paid. Apollo glanced at Starbuck whose pants were finally pulled up, but still undone. His torso, as reported, was bare. "You're out of uniform, Lieutenant," he quipped to break the silence that suddenly hung over them. He obviously wasn't the only one wondering what the professional repercussions would be.

"I'd say that's the _least_ of my worries . . ." Starbuck returned wryly, glancing around at the other soaking wet, bloodied and bruised warriors. They smirked, chuckled, and then dissolved into uncontrollable laughter. It echoed through the back of the transport, warming them, unifying them. "Thanks, guys."

"Got your back, Bucko," Apollo told him. His glance at the others told them he was watching theirs as well.

"Well, I hope you're around when Tigh flays the skin off it," Starbuck grumbled.

Apollo winced, letting out a deep breath. "I'm in command. I'll handle Tigh."

"I recommend a stun setting, with Vipers standing by," Starbuck returned deadpan. "I hear Cordugo Pit is nice this time of yahren . . ."

xxxxxxxxxx

The cell was cold and stark, lacking any creature comforts other than an old flusher that actually used a pump to make it work. It was meant to make men reconsider their actions as they woke up on the floor, heads throbbing from too much drink, and bodies hurting from brawling the night before.

A rattling noise stirred them. One by one, they opened their eyes, each of them immediately cursing the bright light that flooded the cell continuously.

"Bucko, I didn't know you cared . . ." Jolly murmured when he found the other man pressed up against his back, obviously for warmth. He chuckled as the womaniser made a rasping sound and then thrust himself a metron away in the opposite direction at light speed. "Ah, now don't be like that . . . I promise I'll telecom!" he rubbed it in.

"Just my luck to start out with a goddess, and to end up sleeping with Jolly . . ." Starbuck moaned.

"Your luck is worse than you think, Lieutenant."

The clipped precise tone was one that they all knew and feared . . . well, especially when they were caught doing something wrong.

"You men are a disgrace!" Tigh snapped, his back ramrod straight as he looked them over in disgust. Sprawled out across the cell, they looked more like reprobates than Colonial Warriors. "Stand alert!"

The warriors scrambled to their feet, falling in line beside their strike captain as the security guard opened the cell door to admit the colonel. Tigh strode through the door, walking down the line, staring each and every man in the eye, pausing for a particularly painful moment in front of Starbuck while he shook his head.

"It doesn't take much imagination to envision the state _you_ were in when Security raided the club, Lieutenant Starbuck." He pasted on his most derisive sneer, not satisfied until the warrior dropped his eyes in shame, or more likely in Starbuck's case, unease. Finally, he planted himself in front of Apollo considering the officer with dark eyes that bored into his very soul.

"Permission to speak, Colonel," Apollo requested. After all they'd been through, surely the executive officer would cut them a _little_ slack . . .

"Permission denied, Captain," Tigh shot back, the undercurrent in his voice brooking no argument. He turned, starting to pace the line. "You men are fortunate that the Service has an arrangement with Pineus Civil Security." He paused in front of Jolly, wrinkling his nose at the aroma of alcohol wafting off the warrior. "That said your wages will be garnisheed until the damages at the club are paid for."

A slight groan passed Giles' lips.

"You said something, Flight Sergeant?" Tigh snapped, pivoting sharply on his heel to face him down.

"No, sir," Giles returned, not wanting to make it worse . . . if it could possibly _be_ worse.

"I want you all to collect your weapons at the desk, and get out of my sight. I'll see you men back on the _Galactica_ in two days time." Tigh paused as they stared at him uncertainly. He pointed towards the open door and the security guard waiting to process them. "There had better not be a reoccurrence, gentlemen, or the next time you get furlon will be when I'm checking into the Senior's home and signing up for hover-bowling." Still they gaped at him. It had to be the cumulative effect of the alcohol. "_MOVE_!"

The men scurried to rush out, almost tripping over each other in the process. Tigh barely controlled the smirk that threatened to take over his face. His tylinium control once again asserted itself when Apollo hung back, letting the others leave the cellblock without him. He glanced at the colonel uncertainly.

Tigh sighed. He nodded at the young man with the impeccable service record, knowing that if Apollo could end up in custody, that every despicable word he'd heard about Evodus III had to be true. Relaxing his posture, he shrugged. "Sometimes you just have to blow off the stink, Captain . . ."

"_Yes_, sir . . ."

The End


End file.
